From the very first day I saw you, when you were crawling through the porch window into our living room—the very first time I saw you besides obsessively stalking you on Facebook—I just knew deep down we'd be close. You wore a smile so big I almost forgot to wonder why you weren't using the door. You introduced yourself eagerly while straddling the window pane.

That was an eventful night, you breaking the patio door the first night you moved in while I was still home for the holidays and me locking myself in my room—almost with you in it too—and you having to save me convict style. It was the start to an amazing friendship I cherish every single day.

I've always been a timid person. Always planning. Always staying in my comfort zone. Breathing but not exactly living, well, until I met you. You haven't changed me, but you freed me. The past almost two years we've lived together, I've found myself going on more adventures and doing new things instead of just dreaming of doing those things. Remember that time we checked the mail at 3 in the morning, because I was waiting on a letter from my Navy boy, and when we found it we both got so amped up that we drove all the way to Tybee Island, a solid hour or so drive, just to watch the sunset? It wasn't even warm out yet! We were insane! But running around on the cool, stiff sand, watching the colors melt throughout the sky, that's what made it worth it. Oh, and we had midterms the next morning. Crazy.

Or the time you bust in my room, per usual, and found me heaving with tears over some other stupid boy, and instead of shutting you out like I do everyone else in my life when I'm upset, I let you hold me until I stopped. And I know you'd hate to admit you have emotions too, but I've returned the favor once or twice since for you too.

Because that's what friendship is truly about. It's about being able to let someone see every side of you, no matter how scary it could be, and them loving you anyway. That's what you've taught me.

Now it's time for me to move out of the amazing, grand, shitty apartment we've lived life together in, and part of me doesn't want to go. But I think it's because I'm scared to lose you as a friend. But that's stupid, because you're the one friend I know in my heart that won't just be another, "Whatever happened to that old college friend/roommate/whatever of yours?"

No, you'll be beside me asking that about the people we know now.

Thinking back, I'm beyond lucky the new sub-lease my old roommate found on Craigslist turned out to be you. Or you're actually a very patient serial killer, so if that's the case... arrest Ana Miller.

Love you, girl.